


Princes Belong in Castles

by Raven_Silversea



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Flameswap AU, Implied/Referenced Murder, KHRrarePairWeek2020, Storm Day, Timoteo | Vongola Nono's A+ Parenting, because Bel's a murder child, pre-cradle affair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24842668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Silversea/pseuds/Raven_Silversea
Summary: Xanxus returns from a mission to find a literal murder child has taken over his office
Relationships: Xanxus (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!) & Belphegor
Comments: 9
Kudos: 87
Collections: KHR Rare Pair Week 2020





	Princes Belong in Castles

Xanxus wants to hate the boy.

He also wants to hate his fellow officers for letting said boy run wild through the Varia and act like _he_ was Storm Officer. He goes on one fucking mission and everything goes to shit. His fingers twitch towards his holstered guns as he glares at the tiny child sitting in _his_ chair at _his_ desk. “Trash.”

“Shishishi, that’s Prince to you, peasant,” the boy trills. A smile spreads across his face that Xanxus concedes would be sinister… if the boy wasn’t missing one of his front teeth. “And who are you to be standing in my office?”

“Xanxus.” He stalks over to the boy and tips him out of the chair. Grabbing the brat’s wrists before he could do some fucking damage with those fucking knives of his- why the fuck did Squalo give a literal child knives?- he reclaims his chair. “Varia,” he takes the knives away, “Storm,” raising his voice over the brat’s yowling, “Officer,” gently shoving the kid to the floor, “at your service, your royal highness.” He props his feet on the desk.

Amazingly enough, that seems to stun the brat into silence. Xanxus leans back into his chair and watches him process. He huffs. Brat needs a fucking haircut. There’s no way he can see past those bangs of his. The brat still manages to send a perfectly adorable death glare, and Xanxus entertains the thought that the brat’s telepathic for a moment.

“But they’re _mine_ ,” the brat whines, bringing his knees up to his chest. “They’re _mine_ , not yours! You can’t have them!”

Lord, save him from all these fucking Skies and their fucking collecting problem. Xanxus covers his face with a hand and tips his chair back onto the back wheels with a groan. Because, yes, those are newly activate baby Sky Flames beneath all that Storm. Why the fuck not?

He wants to hate the boy even more now because why couldn’t it be _him_ that had that just enough Sky to be a Sky without losing any of his Storm? ~~Would Timoteo have actually treated him like a son then?~~

Xanxus sighs, forces himself to breathe instead of yelling the boy out of the office, crosses his arms across his chest instead of reaching for something to throw. Think, dammit. What did he most want Enrico or Massimo or Federico to say when he was a kid and alone and surrounded by the mafia?

“Who’d you kill?” is what he ends up saying. Like a fucking idiot because that’s definitely not what he would have wanted any of the Vongola princes to ask him. But Squalo already spilled the beans on there being a literal murder child trying to steal his division, so he doubted the brat would be any more traumatized by him asking.

“Shishishi.” 

Xanxus already regrets asking. Fucking murder brat.

The brat smiles up at him, still completely oblivious to the gap cutting the sinister level to zero. “The Prince stabbed his copy-cat. Then he came here. The Prince was bored and investigated the castle. Stabbed the man who tried to throw him out.”

Copy-cat? Was there fucking two of these brats? Xanxus silently vows to find some fucking booze if that’s the case. “That man you stabbed was my second-in-command, trash,” he says. Taking his feet off the desk, he picks up the brat by the armpits as he stands. “And since the general rule here is: You kill it, you replace it, you are due for a uniform fitting.”

“Put. The Prince. Down. Peasant.”

“You want to hold on to what’s ‘yours’, trash?” Xanxus tosses the kid over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. “This is how you do it. Unless you want me to hand you off to Don Vongola, he’ll happily take you in.” And parade the brat around like some kind of show pony until the mafia forgets about his disappointing fourth son in favor of his Sky ward.

The brat stops kicking his feet into Xanxus’ chest. “This is a castle.”

Xanxus hums. Where’s the brat going with this?

“The Prince belongs in a castle with his servants and peasants.”

He bites back a barking laugh. He can’t blame him; he wouldn’t have taken the old fuck’s hand himself he got a second chance to. The childish logic is a fucking breath of fresh air to compared to the politics of the Iron Fort. “Does his royal highness have a name?”

“Shishishi, The Prince demands you choose one for him, peasant. If he doesn’t approve… Kaching!”

Baby murder Skies. How fucking lucky of him to be babysitting such a rare creature. “Belphegor then, you little trash demon.”

“Shishishi. Acceptable, for a peasant.”

He really wants to hate the brat. He’s not sure he can.


End file.
